


Conditioning

by Tinderbox of Sanity (Sephielya_J_Maxwell)



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Finger Sucking, Gloves, M/M, Rough Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 07:52:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1379788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sephielya_J_Maxwell/pseuds/Tinderbox%20of%20Sanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Let’s not play games, doll. You know exactly what I want.” Maxwell taunted, pressing that full lower lip down a little, enough to push the leather of his glove against Wilson’s stubbornly closed teeth. The demon only chuckled, lifting the cigar to his lips to take in another drag. Wilson’s eyes watched as the tip lit up, hating how it made a lump of nausea well up in his throat. Maxwell’s hand relented, though not entirely, his fingers sliding down along the front of Wilson’s neck, coming to rest at the buttons of his collar. The scientist lifted his head a little, and smoke trailed from Maxwell’s nostrils when he chuckled. “You really want me to say it?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conditioning

The air was pleasantly warm tonight, and the moon was nearly full. It offered a bit of light to this unnaturally dark world, allowing Wilson to have a moment’s comfort. By his best reckoning, the full moon would either be tomorrow night or the one after, and he wouldn’t be sleeping. There were too many variables to consider on the full moon. Even the usually friendly creatures could turn on him, he’d learned. That said, his current camp was located a ways away from his more ‘permanent’ summer dwelling. It wasn’t wise to stay in any one place for long, no matter how tempting. Each time that he tried, disaster struck without exception. He was certain that it wasn’t coincidence, or even just bad luck, but the grinning bastard that he blamed never offered any solid answer to his accusation.

 

Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to dwell on that tonight. Chewing on some roasted carrots, his only concern for tomorrow was how to get some meat into his belly. Oh sure, he could survive on vegetables and berries, but that wasn’t _living._ It was a bit depressing how much his concept of the quality of his life had changed since coming here. A good day meant no hounds, spiders, ghosts—he was still struggling with the reality of that one, or any other hostile manner of creature come to kill him. Visiting the ponds at dusk, filling his stomach with fish before it got too dark, and getting out of there before the strangely murderous frogs came out also qualified. Hell, simply _not dying_ now met most of the qualifications of a good day.

 

The fire crackled and snapped, burning healthily nearby. Wilson lay on his back just far enough that the heat wouldn’t be overpowering while staying within the light. He stared up at the sky, his eyes moving over those pinpricks of light which he supposed served as the stars, but were essentially useless for something like direction. His tongue ran between the inside of his upper lip and his teeth, attempting to free the skin of a berry that had gotten stuck there, too lazy to lower his arms from their position under his head. The night was quiet, as usual, save for the sounds that his mind often conjured up to frighten him. As if it wasn’t enough that half of the inhabitants of this world wanted to kill him, Wilson’s own fragile mind loved to join the fight against him some days. The berry skin stuck in his teeth came free, and he spit it to the side, turning to face away from the fire as he did so. No sooner than he closed his eyes, he felt a familiar chill run down along his spine. With a heavy sigh, Wilson opened them again.

 

“I should have known better than to think you’d let me have a nice night alone to myself.” The scientist muttered as he pushed to sit up, turning to face the fire and the tall man standing near it. The demon on the receiving end of his glare only gave a small snort of amusement.

 

“I’m hurt, pal. I thought I would be missed eventually.” Maxwell’s right hand pressed over his heart, his brows drawn into a mockery of sadness.

 

“What’s one thing that I would I miss about you?” Wilson replied dryly.

 

“ _Someone’s_ all wound up.” The demon’s grin crawled across his face, ruining that thin façade already. “I can think of a few, actually.” He stepped forward, and the scientist tensed. Another step towards him, and Wilson tuned to face the advancing puppet master, scooting backwards. A shadow hand shot out from Maxwell’s own shadow, grabbing a hold of Wilson’s ankle and dragging his body back towards the advancing demon. Wilson winced at the burn of sliding across the ground, which he felt even through his clothing.

 

“D-damn it!” Wilson cursed, sitting up to grab at the large fingers of that hand, attempting to pry them open even if experience told him that it was useless. “There’s nothing of yours that I miss!”

 

“ _Of_ mine? Did you have something in specific that you _didn’t_ miss, perhaps?” Maxwell’s grin was smug as he knelt down, shoving his left knee between Wilson’s legs. Wilson’s back arched as if trying to avoid contact, but he refused to open his legs. Maxwell took a drag from his cigar as Wilson chewed his lower lip in silence, mind racing for a way to answer that wouldn’t give him away. A cloud of smoke assaulted his face as Maxwell exhaled, and the scientist was left coughing as the other man laughed. “I know exactly what you’re thinking, pal. I don’t even have to say it, do I?” Maxwell’s left hand moved swiftly, and Wilson barely managed to catch it before it touched his face. “Oh, so you want a bit of sweet talk, do you?” Maxwell asked, one brow rising. Wilson averted his gaze, flinching in reflex when Maxwell moved the hand holding the cigar. “Easy now, pal. You said it yourself; it’s a lovely night out. Sure would be a shame to ruin it with violence, wouldn’t it?”

 

“For once we agree.” Wilson admitted reluctantly, turning his eyes back to the demon without moving his head. If Maxwell was hesitating to use force, perhaps he could lower his guard a little. The shadow hand holding him slid away and the scientist breathed a sigh of relief, releasing Maxwell’s wrist.

 

“There, you see?” Maxwell coaxed, bringing his gloved fingertips up under Wilson’s chin. The fire lit the demon from behind, causing his already towering figure to cast a shadow over the smaller man that could engulf him completely if he moved just right.

 

“What do you,” Wilson’s words stuck in his throat when Maxwell’s thumb slid along his lower lip. His shoulders tensed, and he felt his stomach flip.

 

“Let’s not play games, doll. You know exactly what I want.” Maxwell taunted, pressing that full lower lip down a little, enough to push the leather of his glove against Wilson’s stubbornly closed teeth. The demon only chuckled, lifting the cigar to his lips to take in another drag. Wilson’s eyes watched as the tip lit up, hating how it made a lump of nausea well up in his throat. Maxwell’s hand relented, though not entirely, his fingers sliding down along the front of Wilson’s neck, coming to rest at the buttons of his collar. The scientist lifted his head a little, and smoke trailed from Maxwell’s nostrils when he chuckled. “You really want me to say it?”

 

“I don’t want you to say anyth,” Wilson frowned, pausing again as Maxwell’s fingers trailed down over his chest. They pressed just enough to caress him through his shirt and waistcoat, and he arched his back a little. Of course he felt heat flood his face in the next moment, attempting to pull back. Maxwell only followed suit, and his fingers only stopped at the buttons of his trousers. Wilson’s heart was racing by now, and his fingers curled into the grass under him. It really had been a while, and his body was reacting to the prospect of sex much more favorably than his mind was. When offered even a scrap of pleasure in this otherwise pit of hell, could anyone really blame him?

 

“Your mouth and your body always say different things, pal. I wonder which I should listen to?” Maxwell remarked as if he’d read that thought, turning his wrist. Wilson’s lips parted for a sharp, broken gasp when those long fingers slid between his thighs, Maxwell’s palm pressing against the aforementioned traitorous part of his anatomy. And damn it all, his hips actually pressed _into_ that warm hand.

 

“I don’t want shadows.” Wilson stated firmly, which was the closest thing to consent as he’d ever give. “And, _oh,_ ” his breath hitched, back arching as Maxwell’s fingers curled, palm rubbing against him, “D-don’t ruin my, my- _ah,_ clothes.”

 

“Better take them off then, eh pal?” Maxwell suggested, and Wilson’s scowl returned. Regardless, his hands rose obediently to his waistcoat. His trembling fingers fumbled with the buttons, his breath slowly growing shallower by the moment. It wasn’t his fault that his body had grown so used to the demon’s foul touch! Maxwell’s fingers pressed and moved, tracing the very outline of his hidden member through his trousers. Wilson turned his head away out of pure mortification of his own body’s natural reaction, unwilling to encourage the demon any more than he had to. It was bad enough that it didn’t take much of that teasing before the scientist’s skin was burning underneath his clothing, and he felt as if he would suffocate if he didn’t allow the night’s pleasant air to greet it. His waistcoat fell away, and he started on his shirt.

 

“And no bargaining.” Wilson’s uneven voice demanded, glancing back to the demon with as much of a frown as he could manage at the moment. What he meant was that he didn’t wish for any give and take, as the demon was so fond of offering. It always turned out badly for Wilson, and he was made to recall the warning of ‘Be careful what you wish for.’ The puppet master would promise him a day without hounds nipping at his heels only to deliver a new den of spiders on his doorstep.

 

“Fair enough.” Maxwell shrugged, flicking his cigar out behind him. It landed in the fire with a small hiss, and Wilson relaxed a little. The scientist allowed his shirt to fall free of his shoulders, opening his mouth to speak again. The older man’s now free hand grasped a hold of one bare shoulder, pushing down until the Wilson lay on his back underneath him. “Don’t push your luck, pal. I think I’m being more than generous with you.” The demon warned, and Wilson felt his chest and shoulders crawling with anxiety. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, giving a short nod. Maxwell wasted no time in relocating both of his hands to the fastens of Wilson’s trousers, and the scientist reached up to cover his eyes with his gloved palms.

 

 _It’s not terrible when he’s this agreeable._ As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Wilson was angry with himself. He was just going to give in? Even if he fought back, it would happen anyway wouldn’t it? And it would be worse. As much as it humiliated him to submit to the man who was the very cause of all of this, it was simply _easier_ in the long run. Wilson couldn’t hold back his sharp intake of breath when his trousers were tugged down from his hips, exposing him to the warm summer air. Only that it didn’t feel so warm once he was nearly naked and as vulnerable as he could possibly be. The very absence of logic wasn’t lost on Wilson. He’d chosen the safety of his clothing over the thin layer of protection that it offered him, which he was now second-guessing. Swallowing again, he sat up and tried to reach for the trousers now around his knees. “Wait,” The scientist was stopped not by Maxwell this time, but by the shadows that began to creep in around the edges of the light. Why was he seeing things _now_? Naturally, the demon never paused.

 

“Were you saying something?” Maxwell taunted, pulling Wilson’s trousers from his feet, and by process slipping his shoes off as well. One sock managed to stay on, and the scientist returned his distracted gaze just in time to see his clothing tossed dangerously close to the fire pit. A sensation like ice-water hit his stomach.

 

“Too close.” Wilson said with a frown, trying to keep down the panic that was threatening to rise up in him. “Move it a little furth,” Again he was interrupted, but this time it was by a gloved hand pressing against his mouth to effectively silence him. Maxwell shoved him back, and Wilson gave a groan of complaint as he was laid out against the ground none to gently. His hands rose to grasp as the demon’s wrist, but he didn’t bother to tug. A brief spike of fear shot through the smaller man, and he worried he’d lost his chance of a ‘good night’. The demon resituated himself, forcing his way between Wilson’s legs.

 

“I did warn you.” Maxwell said with a lift of one brow, grinning as if he’d expected this all along. But instead of feeling the chill of shadows against his skin, the demon slowly removed his hand, shaking Wilson’s hands from his wrist. This time when his fingertips pressed against Wilson’s lips, the scientist reluctantly parted them. Maxwell wasted no time in filling his mouth with two of his fingers, the tips of which pressed down on the surface of his tongue. He supposed this was the price of not using shadows, but it wasn’t much less humiliating. Sometimes the only choices you had left were bad ones, right? Wilson was almost used to the taste of leather, closing his eyes to avoid looking into Maxwell’s own as the older man began to thrust those long digits back and forth. The very feel of it was degrading; the smooth leather sliding across his tongue, the way that he was forced to gag whenever Maxwell’s fingertips purposefully brushed the back of his throat, and simply the way in which the demon toyed with him, making the entire process needlessly vulgar. Yet the darkness began to creep in with his eyes closed like that, and the scientist was forced to open them again for the sake of not allowing the fear of the unknown to send him spiraling further into panic. “You’re doing great, Pal.” The demon praised with a chuckle.

 

Wilson groaned in discomfort as Maxwell forced a third finger inside, filling his mouth quite easily. He couldn’t do much but glare, curling his fingers into the grass once again, as his cheeks burned in humiliation. Better this than nothing; that was what he told himself. He gasped for air when they pulled back, a wet string of saliva still connecting them, breaking to wet his chin. Wilson reached up to rub it away with the back of his hand, shifting his hips even as Maxwell’s hand lowered towards them. The grass under him caused his skin to itch, one more small and unpleasant reminder of his vulnerability. He wanted little to nothing to do with this, despite the fact that somehow his body was still reacting favorably to the situation! Was his mind this far gone? Did he have even a scrap of dignity left?

 

“Come on now,” Maxwell’s voice brought him back around, “Open up. I’d hate to waste your good work in getting my fingers nice and wet.” The fingers in question ran down along the underside of Wilson’s shameful arousal, and the scientist released a shuddering gasp before he covered his mouth with his own hand this time. Bending his knees, he gave a hard swallow as he mentally prepared himself for what was to come. Those slick and slender digits soon pressed against his entrance, the first of them sliding into him without hesitation. The smooth texture of the leather aided in the process, but it was of little comfort when the second finger began to wiggle its way in mere seconds later.

 

“ _Ow,_ wait a moment now,” Wilson protested as he pulled his hand away from his mouth. Maxwell’s left hand shot up, wrapping his fingers around the scientist’s throat and briefly shocking the smaller man into silence. He didn’t squeeze just yet, but the warning was clear. Wilson couldn’t so much but give a grunt of displeasure as that second finger continued on it way, trying to focus on his breathing in order to endure the pain that he knew would fade eventually. Turning his head to the side, the sight which greeted him caused his entire body to jolt in shock. Only then did Maxwell pause, following his line of sight.

 

“Oh, we have company.” The demon grinned. A huge and looming shadow had come across the lighted area. While the head and shoulders were vaguely humanoid, the strange and tendril-like extensions from the head and shoulders along with the space where eyes should be was more than a little unnerving.

 

“S-stop, Maxwell,” Wilson pleaded, feeling every bit of exposed skin burning with mortification. “Not with it watching!” His hips jerked as the demon thrust his fingers inside as deep as he possibly could, biting back a groan of pain.

 

“They’re always watching, Higgsbury. You just can’t usually see them.” Maxwell explained calmly. No, there was an edge to that voice now. Was he _happy_ that they were being looked down on like this? Well, good for him! He wasn’t the one completely exposed and in such a shameful position! Wilson’s next words were prevented by a squeeze of Maxwell’s fingers at his neck, cutting off the scientist’s airway almost completely. Wilson coughed, both hands moving to attempt to pry those long fingers away from his throat as his attention was finally stolen back, along with his breath. Even the sting of the demon’s other fingers still working to stretch him open was forgotten in the moment, and he was squirming desperately within seconds, blood rushing to his head. A vein on his forehead began to pound, and just as his vision began to swim, Maxwell relaxed his grip without moving his hand.

 

Wilson’s shoulders shook as he coughed, gasping for air, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He winced as the third finger wriggled its way inside of him. “ _D-damn it,_ ” The scientist muttered, his voice hoarse. His heart skipped a beat when Maxwell’s thumb rubbed at the side of his neck, giving a pleading little shake of his head.

 

“Are you going to behave now, doll?” The switch to Maxwell’s feminine nickname didn’t escape him, but it wasn’t as if there was any answer other than:

 

“ _Yes._ ” Wilson croaked, defeated.

 

“Good boy. _Smart_ boy.” The demon said with a mocking chuckle. His fingers slid down and away from Wilson’s throat, fingers indenting that pale flesh as they went along. The scientist allowed a soft gasp to escape his lips as they brushed across his left nipple, arching into the touch slightly when Maxwell’s thumb swirled around it. Perhaps it was the pain that made the pleasure that much more addictive, and right now Wilson would do anything to get more of the latter. It seems his intentions were clear enough, as Maxwell’s hand moved to press into the grass beside him, resting his weight onto it as he came down from on high. The scientist tilted his head to the side when he came close enough, exhaling a shuddering breath as the demon pressed a tender kiss to the developing bruises left behind on his neck.

 

“ _Mm,_ ” Wilson only encouraged, closing his eyes, his right hand reaching up to grasp Maxwell’s shoulder. More of that, less grabbing and squeezing! The feel of the demon’s tongue would assault those marks next, and the younger man couldn’t deny just how good it felt each time that the air rushed in to cool the saliva left behind. Whether he had simply adjusted to them or Maxwell had actually gotten gentler was up for debate, but even the fingers inside of him no longer caused any pain. In fact they curled expertly, pressing upwards to rub boldly against Wilson’s prostate. The scientist’s body tensed under the sudden wave of pleasure, arching his back as his left hand joined the right by grabbing a hold of Maxwell’s other shoulder. The demon’s lips pressed against his neck once more, though it wasn’t for a kiss his time. The sharp sting caused by the sudden suction caught him by surprise, and Wilson hissed in complaint as he opened his eyes again, brows furrowing in displeasure.

 

It was then that he caught sight of the large shadow once again, and his shame came rushing back within seconds. Wilson was beside himself, writhing between the pleasure of the fingers teasing him from the inside, while Maxwell’s lips, teeth, and tongue provided him with a mixture of pain and sweet pleasure. Maxwell’s comment that they were always there, watching, and unseen wasn’t doing wonders for Wilson’s sanity right now. To think that he had been watched all along was too much for his already tattered dignity to handle. Every sordid task that he had been forced to perform, and every vulgar act that had been forced upon him had been seen by someone; some _thing_. “ _Ha-ah,_ ” Wilson flinched as Maxwell’s teeth sunk into the flesh of his shoulder, allowing that muscle to relax even though the pain was like an electric current running through it, close to a pressure point as it was. “ _E-enough_ , _please,_ ” Wilson pleaded with his ruined voice, gasping as he felt Maxwell’s jaw tighten on him instead. The scientist swallowed, hands trembling as he pushed at Maxwell’s shoulders, quick to explain least the demon of a man become angry with him again. “ _I’m ready_!” Only then would he find himself released, feeling much like a rabbit who’d just escaped the jaws of a wolf.

 

“Why didn’t you just say so, pal?” Maxwell chuckled as he pushed himself back up, pulling his fingers back. Wilson physically bit the inside of his cheek in order to keep from snapping back a terse ‘ _I just did.’_ He released the demon’s shoulders as the impossibly tall man sat back onto his knees. There was absolutely nowhere that Wilson’s gaze could settle that wasn’t unpleasant. On one side the shadow watcher resided, Maxwell was working on unfastening his own trousers to the front of him, and the other side was where he had seen the other shadowy creatures lingering. Did they simply follow Maxwell, or were they only in his head again? In the end, allowing his eyes to remain on Maxwell seemed the safest for his sanity. There was a knot in the pit of his gut already, and it twisted as soon as the demon’s intimidating arousal was freed. But Maxwell didn’t quite stop there, his fingers working quickly on his coat, shrugging it off and tossing it to the side. Maxwell bit the tip of his right middle finger, pulling the glove off with one quick jerk of his hand. He turned his head to spit it out, following suit with the left glove. Reaching down, Maxwell’s hands slipped under Wilson’s knees, grabbing a hold of his hips and pulling that smaller body closer with ease.

 

“ _Ouch,_ ” Wilson hissed as his lower back and shoulders were scraped across the ground in the process, hating just how small and weak that he felt in response to that simple action. He knew just where Maxwell was going with this even before his ankles were moved up to rest on the taller man’s shoulders, which meant that his hips and the small of his back were completely lifted from the grass as the demon leaned over him. His only half-relief came when Maxwell’s right hand moved down between them. Half because he assumed that the older man was taking care of the last little hitch in this decadent liaison. Sure enough, he felt the _slick_ head of Maxwell’s erection pressing against his entrance just moments later. That meant that on the other side of things, Wilson wished to remain blissfully ignorant of just what that substance was, since for all he knew it would be the very nightmare fuel that he dealt with almost daily, for it was slick enough.

 

“Are you ready, pal?” The question was rhetorical, of course, but Wilson gave a short nod regardless. His breath was stolen as Maxwell began to press inside of him, the scientist’s lips falling slack as he felt his body fight to accommodate for it. Dirt slid under Wilson’s nails as he curled his fingers into the ground, his breathing shallow and uneven, a low whine issuing forth from his sore throat. Though the moment seemed to last forever, Maxwell’s hips soon pressed against his backside, and they both seemed to relax a bit. While this was one of the least comfortable of positions for Wilson, it seemed to suit Maxwell just fine. In fact, it made it all the easier for his left hand to return to Wilson’s neck. The scientist flinched, but remembering the last time, he didn’t do anything more than give a small shake of his head.

 

“ _Please,_ ” He whimpered in protest, swallowing as the demon’s thumb brushed against the tense muscle of his neck.

 

“Relax and trust me, pal. And do try to keep your hands down. I’d hate to have to hurt you when we’re getting along so well.” Maxwell’s voice was lower in his lust, rougher than his usual smooth-talking tone. Wilson wanted nothing to do with the hand on his throat, but he nodded anyway. Trust, what was that? It wasn’t a word that he imagined ever existed in Maxwell’s vocabulary before this. Maxwell balanced himself, his right hand holding Wilson’s hip, scooting his knees forward enough that a simple raise and lower of the taller man’s hips could constitute as a thrust. That said, the first ‘simple’ thrust was enough to force the breath from Wilson’s lungs. Maxwell’s fingers tightened around the smaller man’s slender throat, just enough to make getting that precious air back difficult. As if the position alone wasn’t hard enough to breathe in, Maxwell’s pace was anything but gentle, and his fingers were a vice around Wilson’s airway as each thrust shook his smaller body.

 

The demon’s beastly pants shamelessly betrayed his obvious enjoyment in his cruel game, though his face became blessedly blurred as tears once again rose to Wilson’s eyes. They weren’t from pain, or fear, or even from shame anymore. Just a simple, physical reaction to the stress of his body. The humiliation was completely separate, and that came not only from the fact that he swore the number of shadows and eyes watching them had increased, but by the fact that his body was still aching with unspent pleasure. The how and why no longer mattered in the scheme of things. His own strangled cries and heavy, desperate gasps and coughs only played in to the demon’s quiet grunts of exertion, and the hollow slap of flesh.

 

Seconds slipped by like hours, and Wilson’s head was pounding again. Amidst this all, Maxwell’s right hand left his hip. Warm, slick fingers wrapped around his neglected arousal, pulling a strained cry of pleasure from Wilson’s throat as the demon relented his grip just enough for him to gather a few painful breaths of air. His body was climbing steadily towards release, and everything but that ceased to exist. The shadows watching, the strain of the position, the thinness of the air, and even the identity of the man who was the cause of these things. Just after he took in one large gulp of air, Maxwell gripped his throat tightly. Startled, Wilson’s hands pressed at Maxwell’s knees, his vision swimming with spots as it grew dim. He heard the demon come as much as he felt it, a low groan as those thrusts grew shorter. However, that hand was gone in the next instant, and Wilson was taken by pure shock as with the heavy intake of air, his own body gave in to pleasure. A tingling static invaded his senses as he cried out, or at least he tried to, as his voice was almost completely gone by now.

 

Wilson didn’t know how long it was before he began to come back around, but for those few blissful moments, nothing else existed. Elation, satisfaction, pure unbridled _joy_ settled in his heart and mind for that agonizingly brief amount of time. He vaguely felt his hips being lowered back to the ground, and Maxwell’s hands slid away from him. The demon lowered the scientist’s legs slowly, until Wilson’s thighs rest around his hips, and next he knew Maxwell’s lips were against his throat again. The first thing that Wilson could really see again was the nearly full moon. Numbly, he reached up to touch Maxwell’s hair, his breathing raspy and thin. Oh, God, just what had happened? That wasn’t just intense! It was otherworldly, impossibly _good_ and…!

 

“ _Kill me._ ” Wilson whispered, lightly grasping Maxwell’s hair as his other hand rose up to cover his bloodshot eyes with the back of his wrist.

 

“Oh no, not for a while, Higgsbury. Not after that” The demon ‘promised’, kissing the corner of his jaw. Wilson felt as if he’d sold his soul for a second time, only that this time it seemed to be for something much less savory than knowledge. He was frightened of the prospect that he could have enjoyed a disgusting activity such as this, and he knew that there wasn’t any coming back from it. He swallowed, wincing at how much pain it caused him just to do that. Eating was going to be difficult for a while. Of course, stranger still was the fact that Maxwell wasn’t leaving straight away. Wilson felt more vulnerable than he had in a long time, and that was saying a lot. The demon’s presence meant no outside dangers for the time being, and right now, it was a twisted and double-edged comfort.

 

 _Damn him! And damn my weak mind, my cowardice, and my body to hell!_ Wilson thought to himself, and he gave a whimper in place of a laugh. _But we’re all already here._


End file.
